


Full of Surprises

by citrinesunset



Category: White Collar
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal asks Peter to punish him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full of Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://miri-thompson.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://miri-thompson.livejournal.com/)**miri_thompson** requested Neal/Peter spanking fic ages ago, and I agreed to write some. I finally got around to finishing it, and this is the result. Fic takes place toward the end of season 3.
> 
> This is more gen than shippy, but it could be seen as ambiguously Neal/Peter.

"You don't think I've paid for what happened, do you?" Neal asked.

They were in the car. Peter had just picked Neal up for work, and he was taken aback by the sudden question. As much as he wanted to believe that he and Neal were on the same page now, that El's kidnapping and Keller's subsequent arrest had provided much-needed catharsis, they hadn't talked much.

When Peter didn't respond immediately, Neal said, "I never asked to be put up for commutation, you know."

"You haven't turned it down, either."

Peter immediately wished he hadn't said that. Neal couldn't turn it down. At least not without raising a lot of unwanted questions. And it wasn't even the commutation that was bothering him. Hell, any other time, he might have supported it. Neal had gone above and beyond for the Bureau. For him. And even if he wasn't sure he could support Neal's commutation, he knew he wouldn't be upset if Neal got it.

It was just frustrating. Neal always managed to scrape by with minimal consequences. Even at his trial, he was acquitted of most of the charges against him. Charges Peter knew damn well were valid.

After a pause, Neal said, "Is that what you want?"

"No," he said, softly. "No, it isn't."

He didn't know what he wanted. Even without Keller's confession, he didn't know if he would have wanted to send Neal back to prison. In a way, Keller's arrest was a relief. Peter didn't know what that said about himself, about his commitment to justice.

They drove on in silence for a few minutes. The morning traffic was backed-up, and Peter looked out the side window, suddenly feeling trapped with Neal.

"For the record," Neal said, "I agree. I haven't paid, and I know that."

"How can you agree? I never even said I was thinking that."

"But you are, Peter. Come on. Don't try to con a conman."

Peter stole a glance at Neal and saw him raise his eyebrows, prodding him to agree.

Neal continued: "I know I caused damage. That I put Elizabeth at risk. I wish I could show that I'm sorry."

"You don't have to show me anything," Peter said. "Let's just drop it, okay? As for the commutation, I haven't decided what I'm going to say yet, but I think we can both agree it's a big chance for you, and that you should make the most of it. We should put the past behind us, move on."

Peter glanced at Neal, eying his reaction. Peter had been so absorbed in his own uncertainty over the past few months that he was surprised to see the uncertainty in Neal's eyes.

It made him feel a little guilty. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, that Neal hid his insecurities under a veneer of confidence and charm. But with everything that had happened, with the past couple weeks spent focused on Elizabeth, he'd seen only the surface. It hadn't really occurred to him that Neal might feel guilty.

He decided he'd handled things correctly. The only thing to do was to move on, and he'd done the right thing in giving Neal permission to do that. Maybe now, things could get back to normal.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Peter tried to keep them both busy with work. It did no good to dwell on the past, but it also didn't do any good to let Neal spend time worrying about the commutation, or thinking of ways to game the system.

But if Neal was starting to dream of freedom, he didn't show it.

One evening, a few days after their conversation in the car, Peter was in his office late. It was already dark, and most of the lights were off in the office. Most of the others had gone home, and Peter knew he should be on his way. He didn't want to make El wait too long. Getting home late made him nervous, now.

Of course, El had noticed that. She was adamant that he shouldn't rush home just to make sure she was okay.

"I'm not going to complain about having my husband home in time for dinner," she'd told him the other day, "but I don't want you rushing home because you don't think I can be alone."

He had to respect that.

He was finishing up when there was a knock on the door. He looked up and saw Neal leaning in the doorway.

"I thought you'd gone home," Peter said.

"I was about to. I thought we could talk for a minute."

Peter looked at his watch. "Now? I was just heading out." But Neal looked serious, so Peter said, "What is it?"

Neal took a seat across from the desk.

"I've been thinking," he said. "I appreciate that you want to move on, but I think we'll both be happier if I pay for what happened."

"Neal, getting yourself arrested now will just complicate things." It would compromise the case against Keller, and raise questions about how much Peter had known. It would mean Neal going back to prison when Peter didn't believe he really deserved it.

"I know. I wasn't talking about prison. Come on, Peter—do you really think I'd solve things like that?"

Peter narrowed his eyes. "No, you wouldn't. Okay, so what _do_ you mean?"

"I caused you and Elizabeth pain. So _I_ should have some pain."

Peter frowned. "If you're saying you want to hurt yourself...." It wasn't like Neal to make threats of self-harm, and Peter saw no benefit to him doing it now.

"I'm not. I'm talking about corporal punishment."

"Corporal—what, like spanking?"

"Yeah. It's a great way to create some consequences when you can't actually fix what you did."

Neal said it so casually, like he was trying to explain some new culinary fad or the value of some sculpture that looked like it was made out of garbage.

"I can't believe you're even suggesting this."

"Why?" Neal asked with a shrug. "It'd help, wouldn't it? We'd both know I was punished."

"We? If you want to get spanked, go ahead. I don't care what you get up to in the bedroom, and I don't want to know about it."

"This isn't _sexual_ , Peter," Neal chided. "It's a form of penance."

Peter studied Neal's face, trying to read his expression. His first thought was that Neal was playing him. He was making a token effort at repentance by offering to take a ridiculous punishment that he must have known Peter would never give him.

But Neal wasn't _that_ good. Neal could con anyone else, but Peter could always spot his tells. And what had Neal told him once? That he'd never lied to him?

Perhaps therapeutic spanking was some new trend he didn't know about. Like when Jones started raving about the health benefits of acai juice, when Peter didn't even know what acai was.

"So this is something you've done before?" he asked. He looked Neal in the eye, challenging him.

Neal suddenly looked sheepish. "A few times. Yeah."

Peter didn't know what to say to that. He'd expected Neal to admit he hadn't.

"Who—never mind. I don't want to know. Maybe whoever spanked you last time can do it again."

"I wanted it to be you." Neal waited a moment for a response, and then said, "I guess I'll be going. Goodnight, Peter."

"Goodnight," Peter mumbled.

Neal meandered out of the office and down the stairs. His shoulders were slumped. Peter hadn't expected him to look so disappointed. Honestly, he thought Neal would be relieved that he'd refused to do it. He couldn't believe Neal actually _wanted_ to be spanked.

Peter rubbed his eyes. Nothing was ever simple with Neal.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Long day?"

Peter looked up. Elizabeth was looking at him over the brim of her wineglass.

"Yeah, I guess so." He picked up his fork and started to pick at his food, but promptly set it down again. "It's just...Neal."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Neal? You mean, this commutation business? I thought you'd decided to take it a day at a time."

"I am. It's not the commutation. Neal's been acting weird lately."

"You think he's still up to something?"

Peter thought for a moment, and shook his head. "No. I don't. He seems...regretful."

"Are you surprised?"

Peter was a little ashamed to admit that yeah, he was. Was he being uncharitable?

"I don't think he's sorry for taking the treasure, though," Peter said. "He's sorry that you were hurt, and because he thinks I'm mad at him."

Elizabeth propped her chin on her hand and cocked her head. "Neal is a lot of things, but he has a good heart. I'm not surprised he wants reassurance."

"Yeah, he does."

Maybe a little too much heart sometimes. Still, it wasn't such a bad thing to have an overabundance of.

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet."

If he told Elizabeth about the spanking thing, she would tell him it was a terrible idea. Wouldn't she? He was too embarrassed to actually bring it up.

Peter sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bringing this home to you." He gestured down to his picked-at food. "Dinner is great. And didn't we make plans to watch a movie tonight?"

Elizabeth sat up and smiled. "You remembered."

He'd been making a point of making plans and keeping them. He wanted El to know she was the first thing on his mind these days.

Neal and his weird requests could wait.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Neal didn't bring up the spanking idea again. Peter watched him over the next few days, looking for...well, he wasn't sure what he was looking for, exactly. Neal choosing to stand instead of sit, maybe, or fidgeting in his seat.

If Neal had gone off and had someone else do the spanking, he didn't show it. Peter tried to imagine where he would go for something like that. To a dominatrix? To Mozzie? Peter felt himself pale. Mozzie spanking someone was the last thing he wanted to picture.

He should have been relieved that Neal wasn't pestering him about it. But damn it, he was curious. Now that he was over the initial shock, he wanted to know more about what Neal was thinking.

Finally, after a few days of Neal carrying on like normal, Peter stopped him when he came in to drop off a report.

"Here," Neal said, dropping the file on the desk, "the report on the loan scam. Can I go now?"

"Yeah, you can go. But first, I wanted to follow up on that thing you asked me about a few days ago."

Neal had started heading for the door, but stopped. He slowly turned around.

"I thought you didn't want to bring it up again."

Peter smiled. "C'mon, Neal, you can't lay something like that on me and expect me not to be curious."

Neal walked back over to the desk and took a seat across from Peter. "Okay. So what did you want to say?"

"Have you...you know?"

"Been spanked? Not since I talked to you, no. I wanted you to be the one to do it."

"But you've done this before."

"Yeah. I mean, not in a while. But you'd be surprised how cathartic it can be."

"Yeah," Peter said dryly, "I'm sure."

Neal hesitated. He licked his lips. "So, since you're bringing this up, does that mean...."

"That I want to do it?" Peter sighed. "I don't know, Neal. The whole thing is just...weird. And I'm your handler. It wouldn't be right."

"You wouldn't be assaulting me. I'm _asking_ you to do it."

Yeah, like the higher ups would make that distinction if they found out about it.

"Listen," Neal continued, "just give it some thought. If you're not comfortable with it, then fine. I won't ask again. But if you want to do it, you can come over."

"I'll think about it. No promises."

Neal grinned like he always did when he thought he'd won. "That's all I'm asking for."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Peter must have lost his damn mind. But there he was, standing in front of Neal's door. He raised his fist to knock, but then lowered it, wondering if he should turn around and leave before it was too late.

Before he could decide, the door opened and Neal peered out at him.

"I thought I heard someone."

Peter smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I was just about to knock, but I didn't know if you were busy."

Raising his eyebrows, Neal said, "Never stopped you before." He stepped back and opened the door further. "Come in."

Peter took a look around the apartment as he stepped inside. Neal was alone. When he'd arrived at June's, he wondered if he should have called Neal first, to make sure it was a good time. On the way up the stairs, he'd thought of excuses he could use for the visit if Mozzie was around. He was glad that wasn't necessary.

There was a half-finished painting on the easel, a forgery of a Rodin. Neal was dressed in khaki pants and an undershirt, and there were smudges of paint on the fingers of his right hand.

Neal shut the door behind Peter. Peter heard the lock click.

"So," Neal said. "You've given it more thought."

"I have."

Peter walked over to the open doors leading to the terrace. There was a soft, cool breeze coming in. He could sense Neal's presence behind him, and he knew that Neal was waiting for him to continue. It was wrong to drag it out, to make him wait. But even after rehearsing in the car, Peter had a tough time speaking.

He hoped that Neal would say something to relieve him, but Neal was unbearably silent.

Finally, Peter said, "Would you change your mind if I told you I'm not angry? That you don't have to do this to appease me?"

"No," Neal said without hesitation. "It's not just about wanting to make it up to you. That's part of it, but it's also about, well...."

"Catharsis."

"Yeah."

"If we do this, if I punish you like you're asking, it's not going to affect what I say at the commutation hearing."

"No, of course not."

Peter could choose to be skeptical about that. He wasn't entirely sure this _wasn't_ an attempt to garner sympathy for the hearing. Maybe Neal wasn't even aware he was doing it. Neal's first impulse was to solve his problems with trickery and manipulation. Peter was trying to cure of him of that, but it wasn't going to happen overnight.

But he decided to take Neal's word.

Turning to face Neal, he said, "I'm proud, you know. That you were willing to give up everything to put Keller away. If I'm going to punish you, I want to make something clear."

"What?"

"I'm not going to punish you for what happened to El. You didn't kidnap her. Keller did. If I punish you, it's going to be for trying to take the treasure. For lying about it for months. I can't control what you get from the punishment, but I'm not going to punish you for something you didn't do."

"I know I didn't kidnap her, but I'm still responsible. I—"

"No. You can't keep doing this."

Neal frowned. "Doing what?"

"Beating yourself up over the things you couldn't control, when you don't take responsibility for the things you can."

It reminded Peter of how things had been after Kate died. He'd watched, helpless, as Neal grappled with survivor's guilt. He suspected it was partly why Neal chose to drag his heels before re-accepting his old deal.

But was Neal sorry for trying to steal that damn music box to begin with? Was he sorry for letting people believe he had it? Peter didn't think so.

He spared Neal the anguish of bringing that up again. It wasn't what they were dealing with tonight.

Neal nodded slowly. "All right. I accept your terms."

Just like that, it was decided. They were going to do this. Peter suppressed a shiver.

"You'll have to tell me what to do," he said. "I mean, how you want it."

Neal smirked. "It's a punishment—it's not exactly about what I _want_."

"I mean—"

"I know. And yeah, I'll help guide you. Will you excuse me for a moment? I want to freshen up first."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

As he walked toward the door that lead to the bathroom and closet, he said, "Think about how you want to do it."

How _he_ wanted it? Peter hadn't thought much about that. He'd taken for granted that Neal already had everything planned out. Peter didn't have a problem having authority over Neal, but this was one time that he was willing to follow Neal's lead. After all, it was Neal's ass that was, literally, on the line.

But perhaps it wouldn't feel like a punishment to Neal if he got to choose how it happened. Peter could understand that.

He looked around the apartment. He could have Neal bend over the bed, perhaps. But during the drive over, he'd imagined taking Neal across his knee. Would Neal be okay with that, or would he find it too intimate or childish? If he objected to it, they could always go back to the bed idea.

Peter walked over to the dining room table and pulled back one of the chairs. He wiggled it and tipped it back, testing its sturdiness. It would work, but it might be hard to balance Neal on his lap. Perhaps the sofa would be better. Neal could rest his upper body on the seat.

Peter took off his jacket and hung it on one of the dining room chairs. He unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up to his elbows.

When Neal returned a minute later, Peter had decided on a course of action.

"Are you ready?" Neal asked. "Or would you like something to drink first?"

He considered asking if Neal had any beer, but decided against it. "No, let's go ahead and get this over with. I thought we could do it on the sofa, with you over my knee."

Neal nodded. "All right. Do you need me to get you something to use?"

"Use?"

"A belt, wooden spoon...."

Peter thought for a second, and said, "No. I think I'll just stick with my hand for now."

Neal followed him over to the sofa. As Peter sat down, Neal stood at his right side, awaiting further instruction.

He wasn't sure how this next bit of instruction would go over. He prepared for Neal to rebel, to tell him that he was crossing a line.

"I'd like you to lower your pants, Neal. You can keep your underwear on."

Neal gave him a brief look of surprise and was silent as he undid his belt and lowered his khakis to his knees.

Peter wondered if Neal had done it like this before. He almost regretted asking Neal to pull his pants down. He wasn't sure why he'd asked—he'd wanted to see how far Neal was willing to take this, maybe.

Neal unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He pushed his pants down to his knees, exposing a pair of green boxer briefs, and lay across Peter's waiting lap. He showed no embarrassment about lowering his pants. Peter probably shouldn't have been surprised by the lack of modesty—this was Neal, after all.

Neal's body was heavy and warm. Peter realized that his instinct to use the sofa had been a good one. Neal was able to rest his arms on the cushion beside Peter and distribute his weight. Peter put an arm around Neal's waist and kept him secure as he wiggled into position.

"Comfortable?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You sure? You don't need to adjust anything?" Neal's groin was pressed against Peter's thigh.

"No," Neal said quietly. He finally sounded a little embarrassed, and Peter smiled. It was nice to catch Neal a little off-guard. If Neal was going to ask him to do this, then it served him right.

Peter didn't want to make Neal wait, though. He gave Neal another moment to change his mind. Satisfied by the silence, Peter raised his arm and delivered a smack to Neal's ass.

Neal's underwear muted the sound of the slap, but it still sounded loud to Peter's ears. Neal's breath hitched, but Peter couldn't tell if it was from pain or merely surprise. He'd restrained himself, not wanting to hurt Neal too much. But this _was_ a punishment, and he knew Neal would be let down if it didn't feel like one.

Peter put a little more strength into the next blow, and he felt Neal tense and sink into his lap as though he thought it would provide protection. Satisfied with the amount of force, Peter began spanking.

The hardest part had been starting. Once he started beating a steady volley of blows into Neal's ass, it was surprisingly easy to get into a rhythm.

Peter's heart was racing. Each blow made his hand sting, but he didn't mind. There was something...nice about the sensation of smacking Neal's ass.

Neal was admirably silent, but Peter could feel him breathing heavily. He pressed one of his hands against the side of Peter's thigh and dug his fingers in. Peter held Neal in place with a firm hand on his back, just in case Neal found it too difficult to stay still.

Why had Peter never imagined doing this before? He couldn't pretend to be surprised by how cathartic it was. Neal had been a pain in his ass more than once in the last couple years. Hell, longer than that, if Peter considered the time he'd spent chasing him.

Peter pursed his lips in determination. He wondered what Neal's ass looked like under the briefs. His skin must have been turning a rosy shade of pink, and if Peter could spare the time to rest his hand against Neal's ass, he was sure it would be warm. Maybe next time, he would have Neal drop his underwear, too, so he could see.

_Next time_. The idea sent a chill through him.

Peter covered Neal's ass with blows. Then he moved down to Neal's untouched thighs. The legs of Neal's boxer briefs had ridden up, leaving his legs unprotected. When Peter started spanking them, Neal jerked in surprise. The sharp sound of Peter's hand on Neal's bare skin filled the room.

Neal squirmed on Peter's lap, grinding against him. To Peter's satisfaction, a small groan escaped from Neal's throat.

After a minute, it occurred to Peter that Neal might have had enough. He hadn't kept track of how much he'd given him. He'd expected more complaining from Neal, but Neal seemed determined to remain stoic.

Peter's hand was throbbing when he ended the spanking. He flexed his fist and caught his breath.

Neal lifted his head. "Peter? Are you done?"

Neal was still lying across Peter's lap.

"Oh, yeah. We're done. You can get up."

Neal pushed himself up. When he was on his feet, he gently reached back and touched his ass.

"Wow," he said. "Didn't realize you had such a good arm."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Too much?"

Neal shook his head. "No. You did a good job. Maybe I should've asked you to do this earlier."

"You'd like this to be a regular thing?"

Neal cocked his head. "Well, not _too_ regular, but yeah." He bent over and pulled up his pants. As he stood up, he eyed Peter's groin, as though he was searching for something.

Peter awkwardly shifted in his seat.

Smiling, Neal said, "It's all right if you enjoyed it—I don't mind."

"I didn't _enjoy_ it. Not like that."

But he had enjoyed it, though maybe not like Neal was thinking. At least, Peter didn't _think_ it was like that. But right now, who could tell? He still didn't know what to make of all this.

Neal raised his eyebrows. His expression was skeptical. "Okay. I'm just saying...."

"It wouldn't be right to punish you because I wanted to."

"Why not? It's not just about giving me what I need. It's about giving you what you need."

"And you think I need to punish you?"

"I'm sure you want to, sometimes."

Peter couldn't deny that.

They were both silent for a moment. Then Neal said, "Are we good?"

"Yeah. We're good." Peter got up and went to collect his jacket. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "I hope I didn't hurt you."

"No more than you were supposed to. I'll be fine. I probably won't even feel it by tomorrow."

As Peter reached for his jacket, Neal said, "Would you like to stick around? Have a beer?"

Peter paused with his jacket in his hand. It seemed like ages since had and Neal had shared a drink.

"Yeah," he said, putting his jacket back over the chair. "That sounds good."

He pulled out the chair and took a seat. Neal opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer, which he handed to Peter. Peter wondered when Neal had started keeping beer on hand.

As Neal poured a glass of wine for himself, he said, "You know, when I've been spanked in the past, it's usually been with a belt or something. Not saying you didn't do a good job—you did—but I've had harder spankings."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to give you more?"

Neal frowned and shook his head quickly. "No. That's not necessary."

Peter smiled and took a sip of his beer. He was going to like this new arrangement.


End file.
